


sprinkles

by Ablissa



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Depression, Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ablissa/pseuds/Ablissa
Summary: Dan works in a coffee shop. He sleeps very little, and hopes for even less. All that he wants is to get through the day with as little trouble as possible.The last thing he needs is this very annoying, stupidly hot customer that won't leave him alone.-coffee shop AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RachelxAnnex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelxAnnex/gifts).



 The sound of the bell that hangs above the door wakes Dan from his midday nap.

He groans. Inaudibly, because if he remains quiet and hidden, maybe that person will go away. Whoever they are, Dan doesn't want to see them, so he tries to pretend he's not there.

Nope. Not working. He hears footsteps on wooden floor, followed by an uncertain, "Hello?"

He rolls his eyes, stands up, and throws his apron back on. He can't very well _completely_ ignore them. In all fairness, this strategy rarely works. Most people do what this one did - come in and call for him, as opposed to shrugging and leaving. People. They suck.

 

Who wants coffee at this hour? It's not morning anymore. Dan had been here since seven. Surely he's allowed to have a little nap in the back of the coffee shop. Surely it's not _that_ unusual to nap at work.

He steps out behind the counter. Before even checking who it is that came in, he recites the required greeting in a dull tone, saying the words one after another so quickly that they nearly blend into one. "Welcome to Paradise Coffee how may I help you today."

When he hears a long _ummm_ , he has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes again. He looks up at the customer.

Dan freezes when their eyes meet. He'd never seen eyes that blue. _Are_ they even blue? It's hard to tell. Could be green, could be grey. Most likely a mix of all three.

The man that stands before him is just as tall as Dan is, and of a similar age, maybe a little older. Black hair, bright eyes, pale skin, thick black-rimmed glasses. He's dressed all business-like, in a dark blue suit jacket combined with an off-white shirt. He looks better than probably any customer Dan had seen in his ten months of working in this shithole. Actually, better than any person he'd seen lately, period.

 

He spaces out for a moment and is pulled back to reality by a soft, "Are you okay?"

 _Are you okay?_ What kind of a question is that?

Dan blinks, then re-focuses his gaze on the customer.

"Sorry. What do you want?" he asks, voice slightly more alert.

"I just said," the man replies.

Dan holds back a sigh and tries one of the customer service tricks he was taught when he started working here. "A double latte, yes?"

Of course, he hadn't actually heard a word of what the guy said, but this is better than simply admitting that he wasn't listening.

A small frown appears on the customer's face as he stares Dan down for a moment.

Dan knows what he must be thinking because Dan knows the usual spiel, the usual mindset. Dan is worthless here, within the confines of this coffee shop. To them, to the customers, he's nothing but yet another stranger hired to do a job that anyone could do. Every so often he'll get one of them - those self-righteous, pompous pricks - who tell him off for nothing and everything all at once. Who can't understand the simple concept of zoning out for a moment.

Will this one be a prick? It wouldn't be surprising; the attractive ones often are.

 

The man sighs, then shifts his gaze above Dan's head, to one of the boards that show their menu.

He's going to ask for an espresso. He seems like the espresso kind.

"I want a caramel macchiato. Extra whipped cream and…" the man reads, pausing on the last bit. "Sprinkles."

Dan stares at the man in mute surprise. They do have sprinkles somewhere, but he can't be bothered looking. Why would he want sprinkles, anyway? They don't taste like anything. Is he just torturing Dan, keeping him from taking his nap?

"...sprinkles, _sir_?"

"Yes. Sprinkles. And double caramel." His eyes meet Dan's again, and with more emphasis, he says, "Please."

Dan has to do a double take. His guesses are usually correct, but with this one, he couldn't have been more wrong. This is the opposite of a latte. The drink sounds so sugary that just the thought of it makes Dan feel a little sick.

"Really? Our caramel macchiatos are very sweet. Double caramel will make it—"

" _Yes_ ," the man interrupts him. "Do I have to repeat myself a third time?"

Dan is tired and grumpy. That's the only excuse for what he says next.

"A second time, you mean. You only had to repeat your order _once_."

The man's eyes widen for a brief second, and then a far more prominent frown sets in.

For some reason Dan doesn't feel intimidated as he gazes into his eyes without the smallest hint of embarrassment. This man, while as annoying as every other customer, is stupidly hot, and Dan is not blind. Instead of fearing confrontation, his thoughts drift elsewhere as a hint of warmth creeps up the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, is there a manager I could speak to? I had no idea it would be this difficult to order coffee," the man snaps. He crosses his broad arms across his chest, straightening his posture.

"No."

"No? Is that it? No?"

Dan sighs. He'd better stop fucking around. He doesn't actually _want_ to get fired.

"Caramel macchiato, double caramel and whipped cream. And sprinkles. Coming right up."

The guy stares at Dan mutely, then finally says, "What?"

"I'm making you your coffee. That'll be £5. _Sir_." Dan pauses, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

The customer releases a tired exhale, shaking his head a little as he looks up to the ceiling. Finally, he says, "Get me the coffee, please. To go. I'm in a hurry."

Dan says nothing else, simply turning around and getting started on this sugary monstrosity. Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at the man and catches him staring. They both look away immediately.

 

"There you go." Dan hands him the coffee and accepts the payment. "Is there anything else I could help with, s—"

Dan realises he'd forgotten the sprinkles at the same time the man seems to notice. Their eyes meet, and Dan can see a change in the way the customer looks at him - as if he's weighing his options, trying to decide whether this is worth mentioning or not.

Just as Dan is about to say something first, if only to break this awkward silence, the guy is already turning around, shooting one final mildly offended glance in Dan's direction. "Thank you, good bye."

Dan doesn't even have the time to respond before the man is gone, already out the door.

Well. That was different. Dan isn't usually rude towards the customers - he's not their favourite, definitely not the nicest barista here - but with this one, it almost felt like a challenge. What was the point?

Whatever. Sprinkles guy is not likely to return.

That's one of Dan's flaws, according to his boss, Mark. Instead of being inviting and doing what he should, he acts as a customer repellent.

Mark can't really blame Dan. It's hard to be polite when you wake up before six in the morning.

 

-

 

He's only fifteen minutes late the next day. It's already a good day - he managed about five consecutive hours of sleep. For him, that's pretty good.

He stays up. A lot. Really late.

He works the opening shift today with one of his coworkers, Gigi. They don't have to open the shop for another half an hour, but he should be there for prep. Preferably _on time_.

Well. Just fifteen minutes late.

 

He takes the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the front door, flinging it open carelessly. Scanning the dull, wooden interior of the coffee shop, he finds that Gigi out in the front, but he hears her rummaging about in the storage.

"You're late! _Again!_ " she shouts before even appearing in the front area of the shop.

Gigi is a good few years older than Dan. She's short, always wears her blonde hair up in some sort of an elaborate updo, and is possibly the most expressive person Dan had ever met. If she's angry, her whole face looks like an angry emoji. If she's laughing, she's basically choking with laughter. She also likes people, and doesn't mind the job. Compared to Dan, who spends the majority of his work days hiding away, she's practically the most social person in the world.

"Good morning to you too," he replies with a tired smile, entirely unbothered. She rolls her eyes at him, but does return the grin.

"We have to hurry up the prep. You know how Mondays are." She pushes past him, back to the storage, and shouts back to him, "Sweep up in the front!"

"Fuck that." He follows her to the back and whines, "I'm tired."

"You're always tired."

"Especially today. Yesterday was a long day."

She turns around, away from the shelf she was facing, and shoots him a glance that quickly dips into worry when she takes a better look at him.

"You look it," she says, voice softer than seconds ago. "Are you having trouble sleeping again?"

"Always," Dan replies without missing a beat. "You had that thing on Friday, right? How'd it go?"

"That thing?"

"With um—with Chloe?"

"Oh! Yeah. She's fine, it's just another cold. I'm just lucky my mum agreed to stay with her, or I'd have to take a few days off again." Gigi sighs. "Don't try and change the subject though, Dan. You need to sleep more."

This is a conversation he's had with Gigi many times before. Dan was the first one to start working here, he's the one that trained her, but she is the one that treats him as if she was his mum.

He can't be bothered to go through this again today. It's not like he _chooses_ not to sleep.

"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses.

 

Gigi lets him off the hook, and to avoid stressing her out, he starts doing some actual work. They each tend to their own tasks in relative silence, then open up shop at seven. They are immediately swarmed with customers, so Dan shifts into his customer service mode.

"Good morning, welcome to Paradise Coffee, how may I help you. That'll be £3. Here is your coffee. Have a lovely day and we hope to see you again. Good morning…" he repeats time after time, in the same dull voice without a hint of a smile. Meanwhile, Gigi has a chat with some lady about her dog, helps an elderly man pick out the right kind of coffee for his wife, and laughs along with a group of teenage girls.

 

When the morning rush finally passes, Gigi goes to hide in the storage to eat her lunch, and Dan sits behind the counter, playing a game on his phone to kill the time. He's still got several hours left of his shift, and as much as he wishes he could go home early, he just cannot afford it.

Taking a gap year from uni means that he has to work. Well, Dan calls it a gap year, but he's not sure if he will even go back. He just tries not to think of it for the time being.

Besides, even if he does come back and tries to graduate, studying journalism is not exactly the key to a well-paid job. His dad was right. Law would have been better. He'd still hate his life, but at least he'd get paid more than minimum wage for it.

 

He sighs, slumps back in the uncomfortable stool that serves as their chair for the majority of the day, and shuts his eyes. Finally. Some peace.

It doesn't last more than a minute, because a customer comes in. Obviously. They _always_ do that.

Dan opens his eyes slowly, and looks up to see the guy from yesterday. _Sprinkles_ , as he'd taken to calling him in his mind.

The man is dressed rather formally today too, in a light blue button-up that somehow only highlights the bright colour of his eyes. Yeah, those eyes are something else, and it's stupidly easy for Dan to just lose himself in them - to just forget that he's at work, supposed to be serving coffee. For a moment, Dan forgets to be annoyed at the guy for interrupting his nap, but the moment quickly passes when Dan fully takes in the man's stormy expression.

Dan is also annoyed with _himself_ , because he'd been a bit of a prick towards the guy yesterday, and judging by the look in his eyes, he _definitely_ remembers.

Well. Nothing to be done about it now. Apologising would just be awkward.

Dan stands up and stares the guy down, surprised to find that he holds his gaze, maintaining eye contact for longer than Dan might have expected. Dan should probably try to behave better today.

 

It takes him far too long to finally speak up.

"Hello and welcome to Paradise Coffee, how may I help you?" he recites in his signature manner that mainly conveys disinterest.

The customer says nothing for a moment, then lets out a small sigh.

"Hi. Coffee, please," Sprinkles says at last, his tone seemingly tired rather than annoyed.

" _Coffee_ is a broad term, sir. Which coffee?" Dan asks in the sweetest voice that he can possibly muster, then immediately scolds himself for being like this _again_.

The man rolls his eyes briefly, as if Dan's question wasn't perfectly valid - if a bit rude.

"The caramel macchiato."

"With extra caramel, whipped cream and sprinkles?" Dan clarifies.

He finds a sadistic kind of pleasure in seeing the guy blush.

"No. No, just the—just the coffee."

"Are you sure though?"

" _Yes_."

Dan can't help but flash him a triumphant grin. "I knew it. Too sweet, wasn't it?"

The man blinks, a small frown once again appearing on his face.

"No. No, it wasn't. Can I have it, then? Or is there something else I have to say in order to buy coffee?"

Dan is slightly taken aback by the sound of the man's voice - louder now, more insistent. Suddenly the nickname of _Sprinkles_ fits him even less.

Unfortunately, Dan is not the only one to hear him. Gigi suddenly appears next to Dan, smiling at the customer the way she always does.

"Hi! Welcome! I'm sorry about my colleague; he's new. You wanted a caramel macchiato, right? That'll be £4!" she says cheerfully; a huge contrast from Dan.

Dan shoots her a look that says _are you actually serious_. It goes amiss, because she's already busy making the coffee, leaving Dan to stand there and stare like an idiot.

Which he does. He stares at the man and observes the way his frown fades, although his lips remain pressed in a thin line. He doesn't meet Dan's eyes now, which is a good thing, because Dan is being a moron and is probably staring a bit too hard.

Sprinkles guy annoys Dan, but he _does_ look good. That shirt suits him very well.

Where is he going? Where is he taking this coffee? Why didn't he want all the extra sugar today? And most importantly, why is Dan so set on taunting _him_ in particular? It's not like he does this with every customer. He would never have the energy for that.

 

In the midst of Dan's inner musings, Gigi finishes the coffee and hands it over.

"There you go. We hope to see you again!" Gigi says.

The customer's eyes flit between the two of them for a moment, seemingly perplexed.

"Thank you. Um, I'll just—right. Have a good day," he replies, more to Gigi than to Dan, but it's Dan that his eyes remain fixated on for a few seconds before he finally leaves.

As soon as he's gone, Gigi turns to Dan, hands on her hips and a questioning look in her eyes.

"What did you do?" she asks Dan.

"What did _I_ do? What did _he_ do, more like! You heard him, he almost yelled at me!" Dan protests, crossing his arms in a defiant manner.

"He didn't _yell_. He just sounded a bit miffed. 's why I came over to help out."

Dan makes a _hmpf_ kind of noise, then sits back down on the stool. "It's the same guy as yesterday. I think he hates me."

"What happened yesterday?"

"He came in," Dan deadpans, pausing for a few seconds. "And wanted to buy coffee."

Gigi rolls her eyes at him and exclaims, "He wanted to buy coffee in a coffee shop? Unbelievable!"

"I know."

"Is that it, then? Why do you think that he hates you?"

"Because. Because he seems like a really hateful sort of person. And his name is Sprinkles."

She hits him in the arm lightly. "Dan! Be serious!"

"He's just annoying."

"You should be nice to him. You don't want him to complain to Mark, do you?"

No. No, Dan doesn't want that.

"Let him. He seems like a twat."

Gigi groans, but when Dan looks back down at his phone, she gets the point and drops the subject.

He's not about to tell her how he spaced out staring at the guy, or how he was borderline rude towards him.

The next time he comes in, Dan will hide and let her deal with it.

That's the plan.

 

-

 

Dan doesn't see Sprinkles for the next few days, which is a good thing, because those days all _suck_. For whatever reason, that man really gets on Dan's nerves, so it's probably for the best that he doesn't see him when he's in a mood.

The days all suck because Dan is exhausted.

On Monday night, he gets home and stays up way too late. On Tuesday morning, he sleeps in and has to run to get to work on time, because he's opening today. When he arrives, he is a sweaty mess, and one of the regulars asks him if perhaps he'd want her to drive him to the emergency room.

Once he gets home, he swears to go to bed early to make up for the three Red Bulls he had to down just to stay awake throughout the day.

He stays up until 2 AM, a slight improvement over Monday night.

By the time Thursday rolls around, Dan looks like a zombie. a fact which Gigi doesn't neglect to mention.

"Dan, you look awful," she states, watching him as he nods off behind the counter.

"Thanks," he mumbles, zipping up his hoodie. He always feels cold when he hasn't slept enough, which means he _usually_ feels cold.

"You need to—"

"Yeah, I know," he interjects, already knowing what she's about to say. Need to sleep more, eat more, take care of yourself, sort out your life. He hears different iterations of this from his parents, from Gigi, from his flatmate, from his doctor and his therapist.

He's sure that they all mean well.

She exhales heavily, then grabs one of the brooms from the back and starts sweeping.

"Get yourself together, Mark is going to be here soon."

Dan opens his eyes for the sole purpose of rolling them dramatically.

"What the _fuck_ does he want this time?"

She snorts. "I mean, it's his shop, Dan. I don't know what he wants. Maybe to make sure you haven't burned the place down yet."

" _Yet_ is right."

Tired or not, Dan stands up and helps her tidy the shop. He doesn't much care about his boss, but Gigi doesn't deserve to be punished for Dan's exhaustion.

 

-

 

Their boss, Mark, is a balding man well into his forties, with a frown constantly plastered on his face and a complete lack of any sense of humour. Dan's usual strategy when his boss visits the shop is to shut up, and let Gigi - or whoever else is around - do most of the talking.

"What are these boxes doing here," Mark shouts from the storage, while Dan and Gigi stand out front. "Where is the old coffee supply? I told you not to toss that. It's only been expired for like a month. Why is this in here?"

Once he's done ranting, he comes back to the front of the shop. He stands there, clearly in thought, for a moment before finally speaking up.

"Look, I came in today because my mate tipped me off. We got a health inspector coming here tomorrow. One of you has to stay late and clean this place spotless. I'm not paying no fines for you lot slacking off. Capiche?"

Dan's shift is already going to be ten hours long. He agrees to such shifts because of the extra money, but he can't imagine staying here even longer.

He's tired. He wants to go home and… and sleep. Or just sit on reddit for five hours. He just wants to not be _here_.

"Actually," Mark continues as Dan and Gigi remain silent, "Daniel's shift is already too long. You have to stay, Georgia."

Gigi flashes their boss a look filled with panic.

"But I've got to pick up my daughter from—"

"Not my business. One of you _has_ to stay, and you have the shorter shift."

Dan looks to the side, at Gigi. She has her head hung low, worrying her lip as she ponders the situation.

He knows things aren't easy for her, and Mark knows too. Gigi is always short on time, and always in a hurry to get back home. Dan has no one waiting for him. His games and sleep can wait; Gigi's daughter can't.

Dan doesn't hesitate any longer.

"I'll stay," he blurts out.

Gigi's head snaps up. Her eyes seek out Dan's, and Dan shakes his head almost imperceptibly, as if to say _Don't argue_.

"You've got the opening shift tomorrow, Howell. I'm not having you sleep in again," Mark disagrees, voice stern.

"I won't sleep in. I'll stay and clean."

Mark eyes him suspiciously, while Gigi looks as though she wants to say something, but is holding back. After a moment that feels far longer than it is in reality, Mark finally speaks up.

"Fine, but if you sleep in and don't open on time, you're out of a job."

 _Fuck you_.

"Okay."

 

-

 

Time passes all too quickly. Dan is meant to be closing in thirty minutes, and he's still nowhere near done cleaning up.

He's been left alone for a few hours now, trying - and failing - to get everything done with the customers still around. It just wasn't possible. They kept coming up to him, asking for coffee, asking for this, asking for that. He should have just closed early, really.

He could do it right now. Who would want coffee at nine thirty in the evening? Well, Dan would. He's on his fourth. But normal people usually avoid caffeine at this hour, since they have to sleep at night. Dan has long since forgotten what it even feels like to get a good night of sleep. He was already exhausted when he woke up this morning. It's a surprise he's even awake right now.

 

Dan was left with a long list of things to do. Cleaning out front may seem easy, but Mark made it clear - it has to be spotless. Dan has to go underneath every table, pick up each and every chair, and scrub the counter until his arms are hurting. He does this in between customers. Eventually they stop showing up, and that tells him it's past their closing time. His own work is nowhere near done. As he cleans, he dwells on everything that ever went wrong in his life, because it's such a good way to cheer himself up.

He's going to be 22 this year. What has he accomplished? Why is his life so annoying? It's not like he truly deserves this. Or does he?

If he hadn't chosen to take a year off from uni, he'd still have to work part time on top of studying. He thought that this would be easier - an escape from the place he hated so much, a taste of independence. He hadn't thought that he'd only be going from one hated place to another.

And for what? He's not any closer to wanting to return to uni than he was on the very first day of his break.

Dan sighs. He's not helping his own mood right now. He should just focus on getting it all done and going home, but it's hard to turn off his brain when he's left alone to think.

 

He grabs a box from the storage, and goes around the front of the shop, picking up all the leftover decorations from Christmas. Mark had them keep the shop decorated because it's supposedly good for the sales, but he told Dan to remove everything today.

Suddenly, when Dan is trying to take down some Christmas lights while still holding the box and not climbing a ladder, he hears the sound of the bell, indicating that someone is coming in.

It's past ten. How did they get in?

Fuck. He must have forgotten to lock the front door.

 

Things happen rather quickly after that. Dan turns around, startled, and somehow manages to hit his foot against one of the tables. He yelps in pain, drops the box, and most of the contents fall on the floor, including bits of tinsel and worst of all, glitter off the decorations.

Then Dan sees who just came in.

It's him.

The _extra caramel, whipped cream and sprinkles_ guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a gift for the lovely **Rachel** , as requested by the wonderful **Emma**! Thank you for everything and I hope you will like this <3
> 
> This will have multiple chapters, but it definitely won't be as long as my other chaptered fics. It will be updated once every few days with no set schedule :)  
> Please let me know if you enjoyed this so far, and [reblog it on tumblr if you can!](http://phanbliss.tumblr.com/post/182719662955/sprinkles-1)
> 
> Thank you so much for all the help and encouragement to my amazing beta reader [insectbah](http://insectbah.tumblr.com), as well as my helpful friends: [i-am-my-opheliac](http://i-am-my-opheliac.tumblr.com), [AgingPhangirl](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) and [danhedonia](http://danhedonia.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Rachel: Happy Valentine's Day from Emma. I can't handle how sweet you both are <3

_Dan turns around, startled, and somehow manages to hit his foot against one of the tables. He yelps in pain, drops the box, and most of the contents fall on the floor, including bits of tinsel and worst of all, glitter off the decorations._

_Then Dan sees who just came in._

_It's him._

_The extra caramel, whipped cream and sprinkles guy._

 

-

 

Time stands still as they both stare at each other in shock. Dan remains frozen in place among all the mess, and the man doesn't take another step, still stood in the door to the shop. When they finally speak, they both speak at once.

"What the—we're _closed!_ " Dan exclaims.

"I'm so sorry!"

Dan, previously not even daring to look down, casts a glance at the floor. Wow. This guy startling him has set him back at least an hour, what with all the glitter.

Just like that, it's too much. Dan no longer cares about being nice to the customer. He's just far too tired.

"It's ten at night, what makes you think the shop would even be open? _Jesus_."

The man frowns, biting down on his bottom lip. "I'm so sorry. I just—the door was open, the light is on—"

"Because I'm _cleaning_." Dan points to the box and its contents, now scattered all over the floor. "And by the look of it, I'm going to be cleaning for half the night, because not only do I have to clean _this_ , I've got the entire back of the shop left to do. Brilliant."

Dan looks up, meeting the man's eyes. His own gaze softens ever so slightly upon seeing just how miserable the guy looks - pouting, brows drawn together, a hand pressed against his chest. He's the very picture of distress.

Coincidentally, he's still gorgeous. But also _annoying_ , and Dan wouldn't be able to say why exactly, but he annoys him. And he cost Dan a lot of work. How is he going to get all the glitter off the floor without a vacuum cleaner? How? There _is_ a vacuum cleaner out back, but it's been broken for like three months. Dan seriously has no idea.

"I'm so sorry," the man repeats, pushing past Dan's annoyed thoughts. "Let me help you clean this up? I really—I didn't mean to."

 _Oh, you “didn't mean to,_ ” _did you_ , Dan wants to say, but he manages to bite his tongue. For one, Dan works here, and even after hours, he needs to be at least _somewhat_ polite. Two, Sprinkles looks so miserable that Dan is almost feeling sorry for him at this point. Three, he really should have closed up shop, instead of assuming that no one would come in. Customers are unpredictable.

 

Dan sighs, breaks the eye contact that he was starting to lose himself in, and glances down at the floor. What's an extra hour at this point; he's likely to be here well past midnight anyway.

"Right," Dan mutters, composing himself enough to use his customer service voice. "As I said… we're closed, so you can… come back tomorrow, I guess."

Instead of hearing the guy turn around and leave the shop, Dan sees him walk over, closing the distance between them in three long strides.

Dan barely has the time to glance at the man, stunned by the sudden proximity, surprised by the smell of his cologne, or rather by the fact that he can smell it at all. Dan's eyes flit all over his form, taking in his messy quiff, his dark coat with a fuzzy collar, and underneath it - a black button-up, with two buttons undone.

And those eyes. Sprinkles has _really_ nice eyes.

Dan swallows, taking a step back.

"Look, mate, I said we're _closed_ —"

But the man simply scoffs and crouches, picking stuff off the floor and tossing it in the box, which is still right where Dan dropped it.

"What are you doing?" Dan stammers.

"Helping you clean?" he replies. He leans forward to pick up a bauble that lays next to Dan's feet, and that is what shakes Dan out of his shock.

This guy, this supremely annoying customer, is cleaning the floor while Dan is watching. If his boss were here to see it, Dan would get chased out with a broomstick.

Also, what on earth is this guy even thinking? Dan said it loud and clear - the shop is _closed_. He should just leave. Why is he helping Dan, when Dan was less than pleasant towards him throughout all of their interactions?

"Why?" Dan blurts out, instead of the _please leave_ that he should be saying.

The man tilts his head upwards, allowing their eyes to meet. "Because it's my fault?"

"But—"

While Dan is formulating a proper response, the guy tosses the last of the things into the box and stands up, handing it over to Dan.

 

Dan takes the box, dumbfounded, and surveys the contents. Everything is thrown in very messily - he will have to rearrange it all - but it's there.

Unfortunately, that doesn't solve the glitter issue. It's bright pink glitter, very visible on this kind of floor, and there is enough of it for Mark to get angry over.

When Dan looks back up, he finds that Sprinkles had followed his gaze, and is now studying the floor with a frown.

"Oh," the guy says softly. "Do you have a vacuum cleaner? I'll clean that up too."

"No," Dan replies hastily. "No, we don't, and _no_ , you won't. You've—you've helped a lot, thanks. But we're closed." He's trying his best not to say _please leave so that I can be frustrated in peace_.

"You're not closed," the man says. "The door was open."

Dan looks up, brows drawn together and lips pressed in a thin line, because he's far, far too tired to argue with anyone right now. However, his expression immediately softens when he sees the teasing smile on the man's face.

Well. Alright then. Apparently seeing this prick smile is enough for Dan to suddenly feel like he might drop the box again. This time, it would only be his own fault.

 

The man takes advantage of Dan's distraction and adds, "Look, I'm—I'm sorry I gave you extra work. You said you had more to clean? Let me help. It's the least I can do."

His voice is borderline sweet now, and there is a silent plea in his eyes that reminds Dan of the cat from Shrek.

Dan shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, as if losing sight of him might help.

Yeah, he's cute. Yeah, Dan's known that from the first day. But coincidentally, he's also annoying, and wasting Dan's time right now.

"You're a customer," Dan replies slowly, putting extra emphasis on the last word. "I'm not having you clean the shop. Thanks for the help, now will you _please_ leave? I've got the morning shift in like eight hours. I literally don't. Have. Time. For. This."

Dan isn't sure why he decided to disclose the fact that he's going to be back at work in just a few short hours. A part of him is considering just tossing the box back to the man and walking out, quitting the job on the spot. Hell, this guy can clean all he wants. Maybe _he'll_ get hired here in the bloody morning.

But then Dan remembers the stack of bills on his kitchen counter and he sighs, forcing himself to look away from the man's strangely disarming expression. Instead, he sets the box down on one of the tables, walks past the guy and towards the front door to the shop. Dan swings it open and makes an exaggerated motion with his arm, showing him out.

"Thank you, come back in the morning if you want to buy coffee," he mutters, staring the man down.

Sprinkles stays put, and although his smile fades, he's still every bit as attractive as seconds ago. Unfortunately.

"I'm not leaving. I'm helping you clean!" he says, resolve clearly heard in his voice.

"You already helped me," Dan retorts.

"You said there's more to do. And then there's the whole um... glitter situation."

Dan doesn't even realise when he raises his own voice - he only hears it when the man matches it in volume.

"Look, are you even listening? We're _closed_. No coffee today. No cleaning. Go home, or—or go wherever, I don't care, just _go_."

"No, I want to help you," the guy protests. He still makes no move to leave.

Dan sighs heavily and asks again, "Why?"

The man looks away for a few seconds, then refocuses his gaze on Dan once again.

"Because. Because I came in here and startled you, and because you said you've got your next shift in eight hours. And because I'm stubborn. So…" He pauses. "...you can either quit arguing with me, or waste even more time trying to get me to leave instead of doing whatever it is you need to do."

Dan says nothing for a few long seconds - seconds spent slowly falling into a downwards spiral, because he's losing himself in those frustratingly blue eyes. How can someone so gorgeous be so annoying? Dan calls him Sprinkles, but Donkey would suit him better. Stubborn as fuck, that much is certain.

"I could call the police on you," Dan says without an ounce of conviction.  " _Then_ you'd leave."

Sprinkles laughs at that - a soft, quiet thing that is closer to a chuckle than it is to roaring laughter, but it sounds genuine all the same. If Dan thought the smile was disarming, then this should probably have him convulsing on the floor, because much to his own annoyance, Dan immediately finds that he likes the sound of it.

"Do you call the police on everyone that tries to help you?" he asks Dan at last, still grinning.

Dan purses his lips. His frustration is slowly melting away, and it really _shouldn't_ be. The last thing he should be doing is returning the smile.

He somehow manages not to.

"Only the people that won't leave when I tell them to."

The guy rolls his eyes. "Come on. Let's make a deal?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah, a deal," the man replies, nodding.

"What sort of deal?" Dan shoots back.

" _I_ help you now, _you_ stop talking, and the next time I come in, you let me order my coffee without arguing?" he offers, then when he sees Dan's wide-eyed expression, he elaborates further, "I live right by the shop. I don't want to _always_ go through all these—all these trials and tribulations just to get my caramel macchiato."

Dan frowns at him, about to argue, but then, he gives it some thought.

 

He could use an extra pair of hands, sure. And the longer they argue, the less time to sleep he will have - that's also true.

He might as well.

"You'll leave once we're done?" Dan asks, a sort of challenge in his voice.

"No, I'll stay here forever," Sprinkles deadpans. "Yes, I'll leave. Obviously."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Help me. I'm sick of arguing with you." Dan shuts the front door, makes sure to lock it this time, and throws the key into the pocket of his apron. He then walks behind the counter, turning back to the guy before disappearing into the storage. "One thing?"

The customer looks confused for about two seconds, but then, he takes Dan's agreement in stride.

And there it is again, that small grin.

It looks nice. Not that Dan would care.

"What's your name?" Dan asks him after a brief pause.

His smile grows wider as he walks towards Dan, carefully entering the register area of the shop. He stops close to Dan - not as close as before, but close enough for Dan's previous confidence to quickly fade.

"My name's Phil. And yours?"

 

-

 

"You want decaf?" Dan asks Phil as he glances at the clock. It's past midnight.

Great. Fantastic.

"You don't need to make me coffee," Phil replies. "I told you, I just wanted to help."

Dan rolls his eyes, then brings his palm up to his face to cover up a yawn.

"Is there anything you _don't_ argue against?"

"You're the one that argued!" Phil retorts.

Dan turns around, rummaging through the cupboards.

"You do realise you're just proving my point here?"

Dan resists the urge to glance at Phil, but the silence that follows tells him that he must be mulling it over. That, or he's upset. But considering the way Dan had previously behaved towards him, it would be weird if this was the tipping point.

"Well…" Phil trails off.

"Exactly. Sit down, I don't have time to fight you for another twenty minutes."

Phil sighs in resignation, then takes a seat at the bar.

"Decaf?" Dan repeats the question.

" _Definitely_ decaf."

Dan mixes all the ingredients that go into the caramel macchiato, then starts preparing whipped cream.

 

In truth, he should have gotten rid of Phil the moment they finished cleaning. No, actually, he should have never let Phil stay and help. But he did, and it would be more than rude to let the guy go without the coffee he came here for in the first place.

They haven't talked much while cleaning, and they fall silent again now. Dan puts the last finishing touches on the drink, adding a whole lot of colourful sprinkles that he somehow managed to find in the cupboards. He then turns around, meeting Phil's eyes for a brief second as he hands him the coffee.

Phil's eyes flit downwards, to the caramel macchiato that is now in his hand. Dan sees him swallow as he absentmindedly runs his fingers through his hair.

"You really didn't have to," Phil repeats, eyes on the drink.

"I kinda did," Dan says without elaborating. He sits down on the stool the opposite of Phil and looks down at his own hands.

Hopefully Sprinkles will be quick to finish his coffee so that Dan can lock up and leave.

 

It's beginning to dawn on Dan that this complete stranger, whom Dan had treated badly and who was bloody annoying in return, ended up helping him far more than he really had to. Hell, even the box thing wasn't a necessity. Customers never clean up after themselves, and for all intents and purposes, Phil was a customer even after closing time.

What if Phil tells Dan's boss about this? The thought has crossed Dan's mind more than once, but right now, he's too tired to care. Whatever. If he loses this job, he can find another job that he will despise and get paid for. It's not that hard.

 

"I'm keeping you here, aren't I?" Phil asks Dan, which forces him to look up.

At first, his glance lands on the caramel macchiato, already half-empty. Then it slowly travels upwards, lingering somewhere near where Phil's neck dips into his clavicle. Once he reaches Phil's face, he can't help but snort.

"What? What is it?"

"You've got a little—a bit of cream above your lip. Like a mustache."

Phil immediately scrambles to wipe it away.

Dan briefly ponders how none of this fits together. He mistook Phil for one of those business-y, entitled pricks, while in reality, he's Sprinkles - the guy who drinks sugary coffee and makes a mess out of himself in the process. Then again, he's most probably _both_ Sprinkles and one of them office twats. He came here at ten at night in a button-up - he's definitely one of those people that Dan hates. Maybe he covers it up better than some others do.

"Thanks," Phil mumbles, unaware of Dan's inner musings. "You can lock up, you know, I'll leave whenever you want."

Instead of jumping at the suggestion, Dan shrugs and releases a weary sigh. He's almost too tired to go home now.

"Can I ask you something?" Dan blurts out in place of the _okay_ that he should be saying.

Phil frowns in reply, but eventually nods carefully.

"Why'd you even want coffee? It was past ten. Why'd you even come in?"

Dan's not sure why he's asking, but his curiosity only grows when he sees Phil exhale slowly.

"I was on my way home from work and—" Phil pauses. He's playing with the straw that Dan stuck into his drink. "—and I've had a long day, and I… well, I like the coffee here. It's—it's good coffee."

"You work in an office?" Dan guesses. He's not sure why he even cares, or why he's asking all these questions.

"Unfortunately, yeah."

"Unfortunately?"

"Yeah."

 

Dan stares at Phil curiously, taking in his form. He sits there somewhat slumped, elbows on the counter, broad shoulders accentuated by the tight fit of his shirt. He's still playing with the straw in his now nearly finished drink. A stray bit of black hair, otherwise styled into a quiff, has fallen onto his forehead. His bottom lip sticks out a bit in what looks like a small pout.

Disarming, yeah. And then, Phil looks up. He must have sensed Dan's insistent stare.

"Why unfortunately?" Dan asks without thinking. Why does he even care? Is he just being nosy, looking for something to use against Phil the next time he comes in and annoys Dan? Or is it the strange atmosphere that surrounds them as they sit there, alone in this empty coffee shop, seemingly suspended in a different dimension?

He doesn't really expect a reply, but to his surprise, he receives one.

"It's just…" Phil takes a moment to think, but after that, the words seemingly spill from his mouth, racing one after another. "It's just so stuffy, you know? It's so _boring_. I come in and go to these meetings that make no sense, and I talk to these people that don't really listen, and I make sales projections that don't work out, and it's all pointless, because nothing ever comes of it. And I have to work late a lot, even though I just want to go home."

The bright blue hues of Phil's eyes seem darker now, Dan notes as he tries to process what he just heard. He expected something quick, like _you know, office jobs, right_ , not a proper explanation.

Phil seems to read Dan's expression, because he rushes to say, "Um, I'm sorry. I—I know you weren't… I'm oversharing. Sorry. I'm just tired."

"'s alright," Dan says quietly, "I—I guess you can tell I'm not the biggest fan of this place either."

Phil chuckles. "Really? You seem to love it. You were so cheerful both the times I saw you."

Dan flushes a little, because while Phil is quite obviously joking, Dan knows full well that he was out of line. Even if Phil was annoying - for whatever reason - it wouldn't justify acting like that.

He should probably apologise, but he's not quite ready for that yet.

"You got me. I love this job. I'm thrilled every time I walk through the door."

"I’ve hated all my jobs, to be honest. Think I wasn't made for this type of life," Phil muses, tapping his fingers on the wooden counter. "I'm more the _stay home and watch Netflix_ type."

"I don't think that's a paid occupation."

"I think it is! For some people? Maybe? I mean, who adjusts the subtitles and all that? Has to be _someone_."

"I bet they hate their job too," Dan retorts. Phil ponders his words, then nods a bit in reply, agreeing with him. Dan continues, "You know, I read there's this job at NASA where they pay you like, thousands of dollars for staying in bed for three months."

"What, the entire day?" Phil asks him incredulously.

"The whole three months, I think. As in, you don't get up at all. Something to do with how the lack of gravity affects muscles or… or something."

Phil pulls a face that makes Dan grin. He forgets that he's not supposed to, that Phil is still the same absolute nuisance of a customer he previously was.

The whole _different dimension_ theory is starting to sound plausible. It's nearing 1 AM now.

"So you don't even get to shower for three months?"

Dan chuckles, once again unable to resist it. "I dunno, mate. Call up NASA and tell them you want to join their programme. Although I think they've probably got a line of people that want to stay in bed and be paid for it."

"Would you?" Phil asks him.

 

Dan's thoughts sour when he thinks back to all the times he did almost exactly that. The days he'd spent in bed, unable to get up, exhausted from the very moment he opened his eyes around noon. The days when he skipped class, over and over, until he fell behind on his coursework. The days when the world was nothing but a wasteland filled with his own treacherous thoughts.

And it didn't exactly get better when he took a year off uni. He couldn't skip work, so he had to force himself to go, but where did that lead him?

Here. It led him here.

"It's as good an option as any," Dan mutters, hiding his thoughts by glancing away, past Phil, out the front of the shop. It's raining. "Pays better than this, so why not?"

"Yeah, but it's _three months_ in bed."

Dan turns his gaze back towards Phil, finding him looking back with interest.

"Doesn't that sound better than most jobs?" Dan asks him. There's a silent _definitely sounds better than mine_ in there that he doesn't voice.

"Wouldn't you miss your friends and family and… people?"

Dan holds back the urge to snort.

"Not a lot. Three months off is not that long."

"You like being by yourself that much?" Phil asks quietly after a pause.

The conversation is starting to get a bit weird. It's late. And he needs to lock up and go home to get at least three hours of sleep.

Falling asleep usually takes him a long time.

 

Phil looks him in the eyes with no reservation, seemingly kind and attentive, as if he could really give a toss about whether Dan likes to be by himself or not. But the truth is… no one's looked at Dan like that in quite some time. Sure, Dan is not delusional enough to claim that _nobody_ cares about him, because some people do - but there is always a hint of judgment in the caring, worried looks they send his way.

This man doesn't know him. He probably _does_ judge him, because customers always do, but he's not letting it show tonight. And for some reason, that alone allows Dan to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'd just like a change. I'd like to—not be _here_. Just anywhere else, really."

Dan half-expects a mocking response, but it never comes. Phil nods instead, as if he understands.

"Me too. I mean—not that I don't want to be _here_ , just—just anywhere else than where I usually am, if that makes sense."

Dan is taken aback by the earnest response, but somehow… Somehow, it fits, different dimension and all.

"You mean like a different job?" Dan guesses.

"Or a different life," Phil replies with a small chuckle. It seems somewhat forced. Dan does this when he's only pretending to be joking, and he suspects Phil might be doing the same thing.

Is this guy, in his button-ups and suit jackets, as misplaced as Dan is? Not very likely. He's most probably just whining about his job - as one does. But the way he casts his eyes down, as if unable to maintain eye contact any longer, captures Dan's interest.

And maybe, just maybe, Dan's breath does get caught in his throat at the sight.

 

The following words seemingly spill from Dan's mouth. "What sort of life?"

Phil looks up again, brows raised. Dan is almost waiting for him to tell him off, but Phil's gaze quickly softens after the initial moment of surprise.

"You mean what I would _want_ to do?"

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." Phil pauses for an instant. He grins, as if at his own thoughts. "I wanted to be a weatherman when I was little."

"A weatherman," Dan repeats, and Phil nods. "That's… that's a bit… odd? I think?"

"My mum did always say I was one of a kind," he says lightly, with that small smile still on his lips.

Dan leans against the counter, resting his elbows on it; it puts him in closer proximity to Phil, but the guy doesn't seem to mind.

"So you just wanna chuck your whole life out the window and become a _weatherman_? Is that really it?" Dan asks again.

"That's not what I said," Phil retorts, "I said it's what I wanted _before_."

Dan rolls his eyes. "Are you always like that?"

"Like what?"

Dan's eyes flit between Phil's eyes and lips for a few seconds. He stands up properly, putting some distance between them again.

"Difficult?"

"What, you expected my entire life story?" Phil asks. It's playful rather than hostile, and Dan shrugs in response to it. "What about _you_?"

"What about me?"

"Where's your _anywhere else_?"

 

Although Dan took a step back, it's Phil that now leans over the counter, and the eye contact is near constant. Dan has long stopped trying to make sense of the conversation, or of the way he feels when his gaze drops lower, from Phil's mouth down to the little bit of clavicle that can be seen beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

Dan swallows thickly. The guy is a customer, and one Dan dislikes. Dan is very sleep deprived. That's all there is to it. He clears his throat and attempts to purge his mind of all these ridiculous thoughts.

"You mean what I would rather do?" he clarifies.

"Yeah?"

And suddenly, Dan doesn't want to respond, at least not in earnest. Because how would it sound if he said _I just want to sleep_? Or maybe _I just want the life I thought I'd have without having to work for it_. Something like that.

How does Dan even go from staring at Phil's lips to this, his regular depressive mindset, in thirty seconds? He really needs to lock up and leave, and _fast_. But instead, he responds.

"I don't really have like… a dream—not in the way most people do? I guess. I just want to not…" Dan sighs. He's not going to go there, not now, not to a stranger. "I don't even know."

"I'm sure you could get a different job, right?" Phil prompts after a moment of silence.

"Oh, I could, if I could be bothered to look for one." Dan purposely omits the fact that he just has no energy to find one. It's easier to appear lazy than depressed.

"You know… I don't know if I could become a weatherman at this point, but I'll never find out if I don't try," Phil says quietly, lips stretched into a smile.

Dan knows what he's getting at, but chooses to ignore it.

"So you _do_ want to be a weatherman?"

"No." Phil runs a hand through his hair, messing it up a little bit more. "No, I was trying to be um, motivational?"

Dan chuckles in reply.

"Didn't work?" Phil guesses.

"Not really, but thanks for trying."

 

They both fall silent for a moment, and they both glance at the clock on the wall. It's late. Way too late. Their eyes meet again, and this time, it's with some sort of understanding.

This weird, unexplainable, very long night is coming to an end. Dan could almost sigh with relief, except…

"Dan?" Phil cuts into his thoughts.

"What?"

"Let's make another deal?"

Dan crosses his arms. What does this guy want again? They already made a deal earlier - Phil helps Dan clean, Dan stops being a prick and makes him coffee the next time he comes in. Dan has no idea what else Phil could possibly want right now.

"What, you want to stay the night here? Because I almost will at this rate," Dan replies, taking off his apron and chucking it onto the stool he normally sits on. He'll be back here to wear it again in just a few hours.

Phil stands up. He's almost as tall as Dan, but somehow, the way he looks reminds Dan of an excited puppy - nearly bouncing on his feet, with an unusual spark in his eyes. Unusual, because it's late and they don't know each other. At all.

"No, I mean it. A proper deal. A _deal_ deal."

"A deal. _Again_. What is it with you and making deals?"

"You don't even know what it is yet!"

They stare each other down, as if waiting to see who will budge first.

It's Dan. Of course. At least he tries to appear as disinterested as possible, which is not too hard to do, considering his levels of sleep deprivation.

"Okay. Fine. What deal?" Dan asks.

"You want a change, I want a change, yeah?"

Dan frowns, perplexed. "...yes?"

"That's the deal. We both have to make a change. Let's give it like—I dunno, a month? And when that month is up, we both need to have changed something!" Phil says excitedly, eyes wide and bright.

Dan can't help it - he scoffs at that. It sounds too much like the inspirational crap his little brother loves to believe in. All that _if you try you can do anything_ and _just believe in yourself_ , that type of thing.

"A change. Just, any change," he clarifies, slowly articulating every word.

"Yeah," Phil responds with a little less enthusiasm than before.

"Fine, I'll change my shirt _at least_ once. Deal done?"

Now it's Phil that is rolling his eyes at Dan. God, he's annoying. Annoyingly attractive too, sure, but mostly just annoying.

"I meant a proper change!" Phil retorts. "Something to make us both happier. Something real."

Dan shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, but Phil beats him to it.

"I don't know you, you don't know me, but maybe—maybe that'll create like, a paradox? I hate talking to strangers. I won't want to tell you that I failed and didn't do anything. Think Dan, it could really work!"

"A paradox?" Dan repeats, biting back a _do you even know what that means_.

"A—a thing," Phil mumbles. "I don't know. I just think it's a good idea."

Dan is too exhausted to keep discussing Phil's usage of the word.

"You _hate_ talking to strangers?" Dan asks him instead. "You've been talking to me for… for a while."

Phil blinks, seemingly just as surprised by the remark as Dan himself is.

"You make good coffee," Phil says at last. When Dan doesn't say anything in return, Phil goes back to the previous subject. "So? What do you have to lose? A month to make a change. Deal?"

Dan is tired, so tired. And Dan is confused, and tired, and confused, and—

Why is Phil even still here? Why is _Dan_ even still here? He needs to go home like, right the fuck now.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," he says dismissively, then has to watch the way Phil's weird excitement slowly fades due to the tone of Dan's voice.

Phil is so expressive, he reminds Dan of his coworker Gigi. The guy is clearly nothing like Dan. Dan usually keeps a poker face, but Phil? Seeing him now, the corners of his lips so suddenly turned downwards, Dan has this dumb urge to bring that smile right back.

It doesn't matter if he agrees, right? Phil won't even remember in a month. Hell, they'll likely never speak again. Phil might come by to get his coffee, or he might never come by again, because tonight was weird and Dan is… also weird. Whatever this is, it's not happening again. He's not risking anything.

"You don't have to do it—" Phil starts, but Dan interrupts him.

"No, okay, fine. We're doing it. A month. Yeah?"

Phil's eyes widen in reply, and he doesn't exactly _smile_ , but his expression still changes. Dan doesn't know him at all, so he can't really decipher what he's thinking. However, Phil nods after a prolonged moment of silence, and that is enough for now.

 

It's a strange feeling. They stand on the opposite sides of the counter. Phil's not making eye contact with Dan, but surely he must feel the way Dan persistently stares.

Dan exhales heavily. Suddenly, he doesn't really want to go. He's plagued by this strange sensation - something final and slightly bittersweet.

But it is time to lock up and finally leave.

"I don't want to keep you," Phil almost whispers, as if reading Dan's mind.

Dan merely nods in reply, even though Phil won't see it. He's walking over to one of the tables, grabbing his coat and zipping up. Only then does he meet Dan's eyes.

"I'll just—I'll get my coat," Dan mutters.

Dan pops into the storage, surveys the room one last time, and goes back to the front of the shop. Phil is still there, standing by the entrance, waiting for him.

Dan walks past him without a word. That feeling of this whole night being surreal hits him in full force. He realises how much he's said to a complete stranger, a stranger that he didn't even _like_. What was he thinking?

Dan sighs, unlocks the front door, and swings it open for Phil.

It's chilly out, and the streets are almost deserted. It's really late.

Dan locks up, puts away the keys, and slides his hands up his sleeves to hide from the cold. He then slowly turns back to Phil.

Phil's head is tilted downwards, but he's looking at Dan. His bottom lip is sticking out a bit, and he's got his hands in his pockets at a really weird angle.

It strikes Dan that doesn't even know his last name. If Phil never comes by again, they're not likely to run into each other. London is huge. The world is huge.

Besides, who says they would even _want_ to?

 

"Thanks for the help," Dan says quietly, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

"No, um—thanks for the—for the coffee."

What does Dan do now, what does he say? Somehow, he feels that if he allows himself to linger even a moment longer, if he keeps on staring into those blue-ish eyes, he won't be able to quit.

It's nonsensical, all of it. A byproduct of his imagination, his exhaustion, his loneliness.

But then why is Phil…

"I should go now," Dan says suddenly.

Phil straightens his posture at that, looking at Dan head on with eyes wide. He looks as though he's about to say something, then stops and starts again.

"I—have a good night then, Dan."

It's Phil that finally turns around and breaks this strange spell they both must have been under. Dan is hit by a surge of an emotion that he already knows so well.

Regret.

"You can always come by the shop, you know," Dan blurts out. "I… I'll make you more coffee."

Phil freezes for a moment, then slowly turns around to face Dan again, allowing Dan to fully see the way his lips stretch into yet another honest smile.

Fuck.

"Thanks," Phil says softly. "Good night."

"Night."

 

With that, they both turn and walk away in the opposite directions, and Dan finds that he feels heavy and light all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! Comments and [reblogs](http://phanbliss.tumblr.com/post/182810830265/sprinkles-2) are super appreciated. On this day of love, I love you all, since you're all fantastic. <3
> 
> Thank you so so much to my wonderful beta reader [insectbah](http://insectbah.tumblr.com)! Thank you for existing <3


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